


Only One Light

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Community: seasonofkink, Dirty Talk, M/M, OTP Feels, Reunion Sex, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7629907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn's getting used to normal life.</p><p>But it's never ordinary when one of them makes it back alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One Light

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sugar, "Man on the Moon". Thanks to @cicak and @hegemony for help and sharing their thoughts; and to G. for the quick and dirty beta. Seasonofkink, "uniform kink" square.

Finn's working on a normal life. 

Normal is pretty contextual, though. Normal still involves a shitload of fighting and killing; normal's still shot through and spiky with worry. Normal's loath to look all that far ahead. (Normal doesn't much like what it'd probably find there.)

This normal, however, is a marked improvement. It features _faces_ , and conversation; choices to be made, solitude to be enjoyed. Company, too, company to be enjoyed.

Someone coming back to you, to Finn.

A lot of their reunions are like this: rushed, unsentimental, Finn blinking and yawning because he was dozing just outside the air field while waiting for Poe to get back. (Conversely, when he's the one returning, often he has to wake Poe up. Poe can sleep anywhere, and he stays asleep until shaken, possibly shouted at.)

Finn likes it this way. 

He likes the rush of techs and beeps of droids, all the engine noise and intense focus shooting off in every direction. This is ordinary, this is just how things work: Poe's squadron flies out, they come back, nothing to worry about, nothing unusual for anxiety to snag and feed on. Here's Poe, just like the first time, straightening up from cockpit crouch, shaking out his helmet-crushed hair, grinning as soon as he finds Finn in the distance, then, finally, closer, hugging him. There's the whispery rumble of Poe's flight suit, the stale smell of sweat on his neck, the pressure of his mouth. 

(All right, truthfully, Poe didn't kiss him the first time, but he _should_ have. He's admitted as much [ "I wanted to, but -- **man**!" ].) 

The predictability, the familiarity, of everything is what makes this right.

"Hey, slow down, let me --" Poe tugs Finn's hand as he turns to go. He plucks at his vest. "Let me get changed, okay?"

Finn shifts from foot to foot. "Can't you do that --" He almost says _at home_ , but a double bunk isn't exactly home, even if that's where you live, together. "Yeah, of course, I'll just be over here."

"No, you know what, I'm good," Poe says, grasping Finn's hand again. He takes off, then glances over his shoulder. "Let's go, what's your hold up?"

-

They have to stop and make out on the path from the hangar to the command, then again in the passage between comms and barracks, then _again_ in the stairwell down to their bunk level. 

Poe's been out for nearly a week, and in the X-Wing for almost fifteen hours on the return. Planetside, everything's a little too bright and hard; up there, he could have vibrated right out of his own skin and not blinked twice. 

Under his hands, Finn is solid, so _solid_ , so warm, and he tastes like everything that isn't frigid recycled O2. The little grunts and murmurs he's letting loose, things he probably doesn't even hear, are, compared to the on-board systems and droid beeps, rich and subtle, nearly symphonic. Hands on Poe's waist, he walks him backward, pushes him against the opposite wall, sets to kissing him all over again. Light brushes of his mouth, flutter of his tongue, and then, suddenly, there's heat and pressure, his hand closing in the back of Poe's gross, greasy hair.

Poe thinks maybe he should ask what's going on, if anything's going on, but he doesn't. That seems _weird_ , to stop, and Finn hates (rightfully so) being babied. They can talk later. Much later. Right now, he's got his hand wedged under Finn's waistband, grasping the full curve of that amazing ass, and Finn's tongue is halfway down his throat, and there is _no way_ that in this or any other galaxy Poe deserves half of how good and generous and beautiful Finn is, let alone how Finn makes him feel.

"Can we get inside?" he asks, finally, when Finn's panting against his shoulder, pressing Poe flat against the damp wall. 

Finn tilts back, one hand on Poe's waist, his wrist twisted up in one of Poe's harness straps, the other still in his hair, and hauls him forward, kissing him again. Poe's scalp protests, perfunctorily, hundreds of little shocks of pain, but the rest of him falls right in line. He plasters himself against Finn, their boots shuffling, his dumb flight suit crinkling.

"Yeah," Finn says, arm going around Poe's waist, like Poe needs the help, like he doesn't remember the way home, and he pushes with his shoulder through the entrance.

Finn's still got his wrist in the strap. That can't be comfortable; the fabric is dense and rough, and it's given Poe bruise-burns on more than one occasion. But he doesn't let go.

Inside their bunk, they're kissing again, still, as Finn tries to undress one-handed.

Poe tries to step back, unhooking the belt of blaster bolts, unlatching the first of the harness straps. "Let me get this off --"

"Leave it on," Finn says, even as he's pulling on each side of the collar, exposing the base of Poe's throat and the soft rolled edge of his undershirt. He tugs on the strap, tipping them back onto the bunk, grinning before he kisses Poe again.

"It's kind of an obstacle," Poe says. Whenever he moves, the flight suit crackles and sighs. It tries to move with him, but it's like wearing five extra layers at once. "Or it's about to become one."

Finn stares up at him with a strained kind of patience in his expression. "Is that -- are you making that a challenge?"

Poe sits back on his heels. His face is hot, his hair in his eyes. "I was just saying. I mean, you can take it as one, sure, that'd be cool, but --"

"But what?" Finn leans forward, hands bracketing Poe's thighs. He's intent now, seriously so.

"I --" Poe works his jaw and tips the hair from his eyes. Finn's looking at him so calmly, but deeply, evaluating. He grins. "I don't remember."

"The hell you don't," Finn says, but lightly, and he's all the way leaned in now, mouth hovering right back over Poe's throat. His breath is hot, damp, _distracting_.

"I really don't," Poe tries to say, shifting back, spreading his legs a little within the confines of Finn's arms. "Um. Where were we?"

"I said leave it on, you replied with some...thing." Finn touches Poe's cheek with his palm; he must have untangled himself from the strap.

"It's bulky, man," Poe says, "and _loud_ , and frankly pretty fucking hot to wear when you're not in outer space."

"It looks good on you."

"Thank you," Poe replies automatically. His knees do _not_ like staying bent this long; he has to lean back on one hand and unfold them, popping and creaking. Now he can bookend Finn's hips with his legs, and that's much better. "Thank you kindly."

"Welcome." Finn's voice is little more than a whisper, just heat and humidity, skating down Poe's throat and into the dip of his clavicle. He might be smiling; Poe thinks he's smiling, but he can't see. "Thank _you_."

"Don't thank me."

" _Fine_ ," Finn says, lightly, sweetly.

-

It's nothing like armor. It's the flexibility. Bulky as the flight suit is, it's still roughly the shape of Poe's body. (Or Bastian's, or Jess's, but Finn doesn't spare much thought to what it would be like to see them half-naked in just their flight suits. [Maybe Bastian, now that the thought's been had. _Definitely_ Bastian. Does Statura ever fly? He'll find out later. He's getting distracted.])

Flexible. The suit holds and protects; it's useful, but it's neither disguise nor imposed anonymity.

"Hey," Poe says, then snaps his fingers over Finn's face. "Hey, you still here?"

Finn smiles. "I'm here."

He tugs his shirt off, letting it drop somewhere, then wriggles out of his drawers. Poe's eyebrows go up, and he starts to unzip his suit, rolling his shoulders to open it up.

"No, wait --" Finn pushes up and kisses him again. "Seriously. Leave it on."

"Can I take off the undershirt?" 

Poe waits for Finn to reply, lips pressed together, vein in his throat jumping. The pause swings and swells between them; Finn thinks about what it would be like to tell him **no**. To lower his voice, thicken it up with authority, watch the flush build across Poe's skin as he trembled, equally eager to comply as he was to move and feel and fuck.

He's not in that mood. 

"Yeah, man," Finn says gently, helping Poe shrug out of the suit's arms, pushing the sweaty single up over his head. He kisses him again, both hands on Poe's stubbled cheeks, thumbs under his jaw, lips throbbing against Poe's. "Yeah, I just --"

"It's cool," Poe tells him. "It really is."

Finn lies back down, tugging on one of the harness straps, but Poe stays kneeling, looking down at him. His eyes track back and forth, all over, and his lips look a little swollen already, definitely shining with spit.

"Tell me what you want," Poe says. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant. Careful.

Finn's mouth twists up. It's an impossible question. That is, it's a very direct question but one that comes with an impossible array of replies.

"Hm?" Leaning back down, Poe kisses the underside of Finn's jaw, down the side of his neck, hums a little more so the vibrations propagate across Finn's skin.

Finn closes his eyes and swallows. When Poe leaves his mouth still, tongue beating slow as a pulse against Finn's throat, Finn arches his back and lets the heat in his belly unwind, gather in strength. "Fuck me," he says and keeps as still as he can. "With the -- don't take it off."

"Mmm," Poe says, like he's considering it, weighing his options, but he's also pressing much harder against Finn and there's the scrape of teeth now accompanying his tongue. "Why?"

When Finn lets out his breath, it hitches and catches, squeaks a little. "Do I have to have a reason?"

"No, not really." Poe presses his face into the curve of Finn's arm where it joins up with his torso. He shivers a little, laughing quietly, ruefully. "Sorry. I just like --"

"It's okay," Finn says. "Forget --"

"No," Poe says, pulling himself up, bracing his palm on the center of Finn's chest. He slides one leg over Finn's, bending his knee, moving so Finn can feel the friction and hear the crinkly whisper of the fabric. "I can totally do that. Now I totally _want_ to do it."

Finn palms the rise of Poe's ass; impossible to discern any detail under the suit, but there it is, moving back to meet his touch. "Yeah, I can tell." He rolls his hips against the heat of Poe's groin and watches the surprise and pleasure spread across Poe's face. He ought to be used to getting turned on by now, but every time it happens, it's like it's the best, newest sensation.

Poe kisses him and grinds down. "I shouldn't have pushed. I --. Just like hearing how your mind works. Really like it."

"Yeah?" Finn shifts back, getting his hand inside the open suit, touching Poe's hot, sweaty skin. "That's --. Huh."

"It can't be news, man," Poe says. "Or else you're like a million times less observant than I thought."

Finn frowns a little. 

"That was a compliment," Poe adds. "That -- shit. It came out wrong."

"No, it's fine, it's okay." Finn pushes his hand down against the suit's fasteners, feels them give under the pressure, opening Poe all the way to his knee. Under the suit, the air's humid, heavy with Poe's scent, and his skin jumps and trembles wherever Finn touches him. Outside the suit, the fabric catches on the hair on Finn's skin, drags and brushes, sticks him close. "It's _good_."

Poe eases down, lying atop Finn, rocking his hips and running his hands up and down Finn's arms. "Missed you."

"Yeah, same. So much," Finn says, trying to reach back into the suit, get a hold of Poe's dick, but they're almost too close now. He pushes at Poe's shoulder instead. "I, uh. I really --"

Poe's lids are so heavy he almost looks asleep, but his mouth is open, teeth sharp and white in the dim light. "Yeah, man. Getting to it."

Finn needs to twist, untie, do _something_ with the heat built up inside. He can kiss more, and does, and rub almost raw against the whispering rough fabric, and breathe all the way out beneath Poe's weight. But it's not enough. There has to be more, but he doesn't know what, if it's even within reach. Maybe it's too much to ask, too much to need, maybe he's taking more than a fair share --.

"Turn over," Poe says, and Finn frowns, grunts softly, unwilling to look away. But Poe's hands are soft (the cuffs of his suit harsh) on his shoulders, and he kisses Finn's forehead, the outer curve of his ear, then exhales so the tickle builds and breaks. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

And it is; Finn's naked and sweaty, and Poe's lying back on top of him, his torso damp and bare against Finn's back, the rest of him covered by the suit. Finn wiggles a little, puts his head on folded arms, pushes back, and Poe's laughing slowly in his ear, tickling again, sucking on Finn's earlobe, grinding suit and cock against Finn's ass.

"Poe --" Finn pushes up on his elbows and Poe slides a little down his back, dragging his hand down Finn's side. The suit crackles as he sits back. "Fuck, I --"

"I know," Poe says, reaching around, stroking Finn good and hard right from the start, even as Finn bucks in surprise and one arm buckles under him. "Believe me. I _know_." He grinds again, against the back of Finn's thigh this time, and he's hard and sticky; he thrusts a couple times between Finn's thighs as he jerks him in time. "I do."

Finn buries his face back against his forearms and pushes back into Poe's thrusts. "More, please, I --"

"Yeah," Poe's saying, and, "I know", as he slicks up Finn's crack. His grip on Finn's cock eases a little, but when Finn whimpers and thrusts against the bunk, Poe chuckles and squeezes harder. "Okay, buddy, just let me --"

Finn raises his ass, drives his shoulders into the bunk, and gets a nice whistle from Poe, sharp against the constant murmur of the suit. His slicking hand opens Finn up, not much, enough to count. Finn twists his head until his cheek's against the bunk and he's staring into the corner, trying to look back, but he can't see. Just hear -- Poe dropping the slick, kicking off a boot, turning his fingers inside Finn until Finn's rising and falling with it, breathing in time.

"So good," Poe says, almost to himself, before he wraps his arm around Finn's waist and pulls him a little higher. "So fucking good."

"Yeah, yeah, _yeah_ \--" Finn bites his tongue when Poe starts to push in, too slow, then so fast that he loses breath and the heat under his skin sharpens, brightens, _dives_ down through his dick and around his hole and twists him up. " _Poe_."

"Right here," Poe says, laughter in his voice, burbling and sparkling. He squeezes Finn's shoulder, pinches him randomly, thrusts in long and hard. He fucks like he flies, fearless and heedless and so gorgeous that it's a miracle just to watch and Finn scrambles to keep up, pushes back and cants and falls and groans for it.

"I'm gonna get my arms out, okay?" Poe asks, pulling almost all the way out, sighing when Finn bears down and tries to take him back in. "I want -- I need to feel you, that okay?"

"Yeah," Finn says, more to the bunk, his mouth full of spit and sighs, "yeah, go for it, thanks, I --"

Poe folds himself over Finn's back, and, yeah, this is better, skin on skin, sweat mixing with sweat, Poe's teeth skating over one of Finn's scapulae. He fucks faster, grunting, balls slapping, and it takes him a while before he says, voice strained, "don't _thank_ me, it's --"

Finn twists to the other side, chasing Poe's arm, trying to make contact. He bites the side of his upper arm, shakes his head, then soothes with his tongue. "Keep going, please, don't stop, I --" 

He's fucking the bunk, he realizes a little late, fucking Poe back then fucking forward into the bedclothes, hips and groin dropping low, grinding hard.

-

"You're so --" Poe stops, nails digging into Finn's side, pulling him up a little higher so he can slide right down, all the way, bury himself and just pulse deeper and deeper. " _Fuck_." 

He's coming, he didn't mean to or want to come nearly this soon, but Finn's twisting and surging under him, saying his name, breathing hard and _taking_ him in, taking him so far and holding him fast, and Poe's stubborn but no one's _that_ stubborn. He wraps both arms around Finn, holds him tight, fucks and shudders through his orgasm, keeps shaking even as he drains.

" _Poe_ ," Finn says, rolling over, Poe falling over, trying not to pull out. He reaches for himself, starts to jerk off, but Poe shoves his hand out of the way, does it himself.

Finn quakes against him, hips twitching and jumping, and Poe has to fight to stay inside. 

"Tighten up," he whispers, bites the side of Finn's neck. "Can you do that? Hold me in."

Finn nods, sighing wetly, and squeezes around Poe, pushing back, then jerking forward into Poe's hand. "Like that?"

"Just like that," Poe says and kisses his ear, behind, below, then settles for sucking on the tendon as he tugs on Finn's cock. "You like that?"

Finn nods and thrusts, but his face seems screwed up; there's tension - beyond the near-orgasmic tension of sex - throughout his sweaty, muscular body, like he's holding himself together, desperate not to fly apart.

"Baby," Poe whispers, then closes his eyes, because _damn_ , that sounds dumb, sounds _terrible_. It just came out, he's such a weird sentimental _dumbass_. "Let go. I got you, okay? Not going anywhere."

Finn sobs a little at that, or just in general, shivering in Poe's hold, cock jumping. He sucks in a breath, holds it, then shakes and starts to come, twisting to kiss Poe's neck, cheek, anywhere he can reach. Poe feels him come from the inside, contractions and jumps, pulses and flutters. Tenderness surges through Poe, swamps him, the huge, simple fact that this man, best in the galaxy, this man is in his arms, shivering, giving himself over to Poe, trusting him, coming and moaning and _staying_.

Poe slows his touches, his kisses, holds Finn's trembling form close, presses his face against his back. The damn flight suit still gives up the occasional crackle, even when he thinks they're both motionless.

Finn reaches up, covering one of Poe's arms with his own, lacing their fingers together. 

"Better?" Poe asks. He's hoarse. He kisses Finn's shoulder. "Hmm?"

Finn half-laughs, half-sighs, and his hole quivers a little. "Getting there."

Poe tightens his hold. "What do you need?"

Finn bends his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He makes a shivery little sigh that isn't a laugh or a moan.

Poe pinches him. "Come on, it's cool. Tell me."

"I --" Finn opens his eyes, squinting intently at the wall ahead of them. "Forget it."

"No," Poe says and rolls his hips. Fuck, he's sore. Sore from _coming_ , but sore, too, from flying, from being old as fuck. "I want to hear."

"More," Finn says, simple and clear as a chime. "Please."

"More, huh?" Poe runs his hand up and down Finn's chest, light fingertips, occasional pokes, a tweak on his nipple. "What kind of more? You want me to suck you? We could do that. Just sit on my face? Fuck my throat?"

Finn moans softly and shakes his head.

"Huh, I don't know, that sounds pretty great to _me_ ," Poe says, "but what do I know? You want to fuck me? Should I bend over? Grab my knees and take it? I'll beg for it, you want to hear that?"

Finn gulps. "Yes and no. Yes, definitely, some time --"

"Please, Finn, fuck me...." Poe nips his shoulder. "Harder, oh, you're so _big_ , make me take it, I need it, I need it so _bad_."

"Man --"

"But not right now, okay," Poe says briskly. His dick is twitching, not without twinges of pain. It's worth it. He breathes several times, open-mouthed, against Finn. 

"Fuck me some more," Finn says, so softly it's below a whisper. He clears his throat. "I know -- I know you, like. _Can't_ , but --"

"I'm pretty resourceful, though. You want a toy, maybe? Something nice and big and _hard_? Split you right open?"

Finn shivers again. "You. Just you. _Please_."

Poe swallows, then realizes he doesn't have to keep quiet, so he moans and grunts, leaning back so Finn can flop over on his back. His dick's finally out, soft and twitchy, twitching _more_ as he braces himself on one arm and looks Finn over. He looks half-sleepy, smile curving his beautiful mouth, limbs splayed out, and tense at the same time, peering up at Poe, brows drawn together.

"It's okay," Poe says even though Finn hasn't asked for reassurance. It just feels right to say. Maybe it isn't. He doesn't know. "It's okay, it's --"

Finn lifts his hips and thrusts a little, opening his legs. "Please. I --" He bites his lips and looks away, scowling. 

"Fuck me, Finn," Poe says, kissing where Finn's biting his lip, running his hand down the center of Finn's chest. "How are you so amazing?"

Finn shakes his head. "I want --"

"I know, buddy, I'm here." Poe lifts Finn's nearer leg and ducks underneath. He tugs Finn's hips until he's propped up on Poe's leg. "Open up some more?"

There's an ooze of Poe's come, more texture than anything he can see in the dark room, and the heavy curving weight of Finn's soft cock, nudging Poe's wrist as he opens Finn.

Finn sighs and lifts his hips. "Please, I don't know what's wrong with me, I just --"

"Nothing," Poe tells him, leaning in to kiss the side of Finn's knee. He crooks his first two fingers, swipes up old lube and fresher come, circles Finn's hole until Finn moans. "Nothing's wrong with you, you're beautiful, you're so _good_ , baby, let me in --"

He hears Finn gulp and croak, his hips going higher, his hole opening around Poe's fingers. They slip inside easily, so he adds a third and twists his wrist until Finn's voice clarifies into a high, reedy moan.

"Poe!" Finn grabs one knee, folding his leg against his chest, pressing down to take Poe deeper in. "Oh, _fuck_ \--"

"That's the idea, hot stuff," Poe says, then shakes away the bad joke. "Sorry --"

"No, no, it's good, _fuck_ \--" Finn fucks himself down; Poe folds all four fingers together into a beak-shaped formation, then spreads them, reaching deep, wiggling them until Finn's flopping back, moaning constantly.

He starts to thrash, so Poe leans forward, puts his shoulder into it against Finn's folded leg. This stills him, a little, but also spreads him open wider, and Poe can't look away now, watching the tip of his thumb nudge the edge of Finn's hole, watching Finn _take_ it all, love it, open and offer and _sing_ for more.

"So good," Poe's whispering, to himself, to Finn, to the fucking _Force_ , he doesn't care, everyone should know how good Finn is, "so brave, so beautiful, _Finn_ \--"

Finn fucks down and pulls up, fucks and pulls, ripples and undulates, and then, suddenly, some long sigh-filled moment later, his head pops up and his torso freezes. "Poe!"

"Come on me," Poe says, so hoarse it hurts to speak. "Come on, buddy, I bet you can --"

Finn thrashes to one side, then the other, before he lifts himself all the way up, only his shoulders and one foot left on the bunk, pushing down on Poe's hand, convulsions running down his hole, his cock moving and thickening further.

Poe watches the pleasure overtake Finn, watches Finn welcome it, his mouth open and eyes open, too, gaze fastened on Poe, his hips working in midair as he fucks and shakes and comes dry and howling. It's glorious, and thrilling, and it makes Poe want to climb up inside and never leave, never break apart, bind tight and stick fast.

Finn flops down, loose-limbed, gasping, tiny lurches and spasms running randomly over his body. His breath whistles and hitches.

Poe wriggles, trying to figure out how to do this. He can't remove his hand, he knows that, but all he wants to do is lie next to, maybe atop, Finn, feel every pore he can reach.

"Are you still wearing it?" Finn asks when Poe shifts again. "The suit."

"Yeah."

Finn exhales slow and gusty. "You're the best."

"Can I take it off, then?"

Finn lifts his head. His smile is huge. "Yeah, man. Go for it."

"I'm going to need my --"

Finn braces his foot on Poe's chest and pushes him back, so Poe's hand comes free and he falls back, flailing a little. He rights himself, crawls out of the damn suit, kicking it away, and plastering himself against Finn's side.

-

Finn rolls on his side, still not entirely back inside his own body - the nerves here spark and throb in unfamiliar patterns - pulling Poe closer.

"If I say thank you, you're going to throw it back at me, right?" he murmurs. That's just the way it always seems to go. He is grateful, but saying so is, Poe claims, entirely unnecessary. One of us should be -- and **is** \-- grateful here, and it's not you, pal.

Poe kisses his temple. He's warm and sticky, his stubble and chest hair rasping, adhering them together. "Yeah."

"Okay." Finn holds him tighter. 

"You --" Poe starts to say but Finn shakes his head, dragging his mouth along Poe's sweaty clavicle.

"Welcome home," Finn says. "That's all."


End file.
